Canid
by Mad Scientist Sidekick
Summary: AU after Episode 14 of AOS ("Yes Men"). Coulson is ready to confront Director Fury about what he found in the Guest House, but first he'll have to hunt down a mysterious, deadly creature that's rampaging across the northwestern United States. It seems insane, but is it possible this case is connected to Fenrir Lokison? And why does the monster seem to have it in for Coulson?
1. Prologue

Canid

Prologue

Coulson

"Don't let Skye and Fitz in here," I suggest as I kneel over the body. Or rather … what's left of the body. It looks like confronting Fury is in on the back burner once again.

"I'll keep that in mind," Simmons says. She looks as though she's having trouble keeping down her lunch herself.

"It looks … chewed," Ward says hesitantly as he looks at the severed arm.

"By … something big," Simmons says, looking at the size of the teeth marks.

"That's why we're here. There was at least one alien creature loose on Earth after the convergence event – it's possible there's more than one that laid low for a while," I say. London authorities had caught a Jotunheim ice troll snacking on some unfortunate homeless people just a few days after the convergence and put it down. "Thor mentioned something called a bilgesnipe … this might be it."  
"I don't know … is bilgesnipe Asgardian for 'huge wolf?' Because that's what this looks like," Ward says.

"I don't know … Thor said they had antlers," I say absently. I remember that conversation so vividly … it was only a day before … "He didn't say whether they were carnivorous or not. Sometimes herbivores can just … trample everything. All he said was they were destructive." I look up at the open half of the trailer – the double wide has been torn right open. Maybe it was a giant bear – the claw marks made it look like the work of a bear. Or who knows what kind of crazy wildlife could be found out there in the wide, wide galaxy? What makes Ward say wolf? Wolves get the short end of the stick, don't they?

A few minutes later, I'm glad I didn't decide to voice that thought – because the prints we find in the mud behind the trailer are definitely made by a wolf – one with paws so big, a small child could have curled up in the footprint. It's going to be a wild chase.

**Author's Note:  
**Heads up – the first chapter is going to be first person Sif, then the next few chapters are going to be first person from Fenrir and then I'll go back to Coulson when we get back to Earth. This is AU after "Yes Men," but will still be influenced by subsequent episodes/ the events of _Winter Soldier_. ESPECIALLY the events of _Winter Soldier_.


	2. Chapter 1: Retrieval (Sif)

Chapter 1

Retrieval

Sif

**Author's Note: **So yes I'm writing Fen as a Woobie Destroyer of Worlds. Sue me. I kind of take the _I am Mordred _approach there (if you haven't read that book, find it and read it immediately) – if you treat kids like they're going to be evil when they grow up, it's going to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Also I realized I give no indication of time in the text so we're flashing back about a hundred years from the present at this point. I'll give a more detailed explanation of the timeline in the next chapter where it's more relevant.

* * *

I don't balk at these duties – I know I am given the lowest, the most thankless tasks, because I am a young warrior, and a woman besides. My task today is simple – to slip unnoticed into the dwarf realm to retrieve Loki's bastard son, already given a hard lot in life with a mixed heritage and a curse that makes him appear as a wolf, and never speak a word of it to anyone, thereby preventing scandal at home and abroad. I won't have the guidance of my brother, as I usually do, since I am taking the same pathway between worlds that Loki took to see his exiled Jotun mistress. I have two maps from Loki, forbidden by the Allfather from retrieving the boy himself, and an amulet she gave him which should, theoretically, get me past any protection spells she had in place. I jokingly told Heimdall that Sigyn should come with me – she knows magic so well, and I only know a few spells, and she is so much better with children and animals. But of course, she is no warrior – she would not know what to do if she got caught. Then again, it'd be much easier for her to claim innocence, should she be caught – I'm a warrior traveling unannounced into another realm. There is little to excuse my presence.

I go and speak to my brother before I am to make the journey – he won't be opening the gate for me but, even so, he has news that may help me.

"I see the boy – his mother must have been prepared for the worst to come to worst. He has food for a few days still, and he is warm and safe. The townspeople search for him, but they cannot find him. You may only have a few moments once you break the seal before you are found."  
"I understand."  
"There's something else – there's an egg the boy guards. His affection towards it is brotherly."  
"Loki's as well?" I ask, annoyed. He needs to learn to keep his sword sheathed.

"I cannot say." Not that it matters – if there's even a small chance it's sapient, I'm not going to leave it to perish.

"Where's the boy?" I ask.

"Beneath the house – where's the map Loki gave you?" I take the parchment from my sleeve and unfold it.

"There is a trap door hidden beneath a charred rug, here," he says, and points it out to me.

"Thank you brother. Is there anything else you can tell me?"  
"Only to be careful."

"Thank you for that, brother," I say, annoyed. He treats me as though I'm still a child, but I suppose that is natural for eldest brothers.

It's the time of my departure, and I go over Loki's instructions in my head over and over though they're written down for me as well. I need to be swift and silent, and can't allow myself to forget that the fate of a young boy (perhaps two young children) is in my hands. I crawl through the rock tunnel, knowing it leads to a weak point in the wall between realms, and swallow down any fear that comes from being in such a confined space. I am a shield maiden – fearless and strong.

After almost an hour crawling on hands and knees, I emerge in another world – but the woods look like the ones at home. I follow the first map – the map of the woods – to the little stone cabin. The acrid smell of burnt flesh still clings to the air – how it must torment the little one, with his wolfen sense of smell.

I survey the area – I see no signs of anyone in the area and sneak inside – the door must have been wooden because it was burned away. Once inside, I looked around and oriented myself to the map Loki had given me. Even after the fire, I recognize the remains of shelves full of books and charms – no wonder Loki liked her. Sigyn would probably be walking around mourning the loss of knowledge – it even hurts my warrior heart to see. But I don't have time to dwell on it – I head towards the spot where the trap door is hidden, but even when I pull the rug back, I see nothing. I know that the spell was not passively broken just by the presence of the amulet and I take a deep breath and remember the incantations I was supposed to recite – I was never good at magic, and I'm afraid it won't work. Sure enough, it takes me a couple of tries before I see the iron ring and the gap in the floorboards – I quickly take the ring and pull it open, and see a narrow stone stairwell below me. I start to climb down and close the door behind me – if angry villagers come looking for the boy, there's no sense in making it especially obvious where we are.

Almost as soon as I shut the door, the boy is upon me – he sinks his teeth into my ankle. Or rather, tries – his tiny teeth have no hope of penetrating my leather armor. It must hurt, but he doesn't shrink back in pain or give up, only tries harder. I hear a tiny, squeaky voice in my head, punctuated with little growling sounds that would sound more intimidating if they weren't so high pitched. _Leave! No hurt me and Jorg! _He is a tiny cub – I could carry him by cupping my hands. _I rip you apart!_ He has silver and gray fur (and there is a lot of fur) like any wolf – the only thing that sticks out about him is he has beautiful blue eyes. Loki's eyes. The effect of seeing an Aesir's eyes set in an animal face is deeply unsettling – it will take getting used to. "Little one – little one – Fenrir – I am not here to hurt you," I say quickly. At the sound of his name, he ceases his attempts to bite me. "I am Lady Sif. I'm a friend of your father," I say. A little white lie won't hurt.

_My father? _He asks, and looks up at me with his head cocked to one side.

"Loki. You met him once – he is an Aesir like me with dark hair …"  
_He play with Mother in bed. _Oh dear Odin … _I climb up and kiss him. He think I puppy. He angry when Mother say I son._

Judging by his adorably broken speech he's not very old – but he can speak, which makes him older than I thought he must be.

"Yes – I'm here to take you to him so he can take care of you. Where is your brother?" He trots down the stairs and I follow into a cramped basement. There's dried meat in the corner, which I assume is how the boy has survived thus far. Judging by his fat tummy, he's been eating pretty recently – if he's like any child or dog, he's been eating as much as he can stand each day, and would have run out soon but I assume by then he would have put on enough weight to survive for several weeks. I wonder how long his mother was afraid he might be here alone if something happened to her. Fenrir trots to the opposite corner, where an egg is sitting. I follow him and kneel to pick it up. The area immediately around the egg is very warm, much warmer than the rest of the room – I assume this is also courtesy of magic. I reach for the egg and Fenrir snaps at my hand.

_No! He stay must warm!_

"Fenrir – it is not safe for either of you to remain here," I say impatiently. "The people who … The people who took your mother away will return for you." I pull the blankets from my pack – I had meant to wrap him up, and I spare one for that purpose. "Here. We'll wrap him up and put him in my pack, and then set you on top, and the blankets and the warmth of our bodies should keep him warm for the journey home. The boy nods, and I quickly wrap the egg – surprisingly tender, and leathery instead of hard – in several blankets and place it as gently as I can in my pack. While I do, Fenrir runs to the corner with the meat and grabs a big leg of something.

"Fenrir – there will more fresh meat than you've ever imagined at the palace. Leave that here."

_Waste bad._

"Once we leave someone will find it and eat it," I say impatiently as he begins eating and stride over to scoop him up. He yips in protest. "Hush," I say harshly and wrap him in the last blanket and set him in my bag as well. "Not a word, not a sound until I tell you, do you understand?"  
_Yes._

I listen at the door a long time before I open it – I'm pleased the boy doesn't protest impatiently. When I am certain no one is here, I open the trap door once more and make my way to the door, where I stay out of sight and listen yet again. Indeed, I hear no one – they must have given up their search for him, probably assuming he would starve in time. I feel the boy start to shake – even with his abundance of fur and the blanket, it is very cold out here compared to in the basement. I hope that's not obvious if I do encounter anyone – I feel bad for the poor child and worry about the other one.

It seems to take twice as long to walk back through the woods to the passageway as it did to get there – not least of all because tiny Fenrir's shivering gets more and more severe. When at last I get there, I struggle to remember the incantation to open the doorway._ Will I die? _The boy asks.

"You have your father's flair for the dramatic," I say chidingly. He's not shivering _that _badly. And as soon as my mind wanders to speaking to him, I can remember – I open the door and duck down to step inside. It's much warmer, almost unpleasantly so, in the tunnel. Even so, I take the cub out of my bag and open my cloak to place him directly against my chest and wrap him up for a little while.

_No don't stop! We have to get somewhere warmer for Jorg! _He protests, and wiggles from my arms and hurries down the tunnel. I resituate the bag and follow as quickly as I can.

"Fenrir! Do not go so far ahead! I am not as fast as you on all fours!" He circles back, and very much to my surprise goes right up to me and stands on hind paws to "kiss" me on the chin, and then runs back ahead a little. It surprises me so much I laugh a little. He does that for quite a while – he runs a little ways ahead and then back to me, sometimes giving me a kiss and sometimes not. He never says anything when he does – I suppose those words have yet to be learned. Then he starts to grow tired, and progresses quite rapidly from just walking in the tunnel to collapsing in a furry little heap at my feet. I sigh and wrap him back in the blanket and carry him the rest of the way home. He sleeps until we're almost there – then he wakes up and begins to whine inconsolably about how we're never going to get there, no matter how many times I tell him we're close. I'd swat his nose if I wasn't afraid to strike a prince.

I emerge from the tunnel to find Loki pacing anxiously, and Thor sitting on a nearby rock watching his brother pace. Their duties must be ended for the day. As soon as he sees me Loki hurries to my side to help me stand up – I extend my hand and he lifts me up. "Did you …" he starts anxiously, but the whimpers and pathetic howls from the bag are enough of an answer. I undo the clasps on the bag and Loki lifts him out carefully – still wrapped in the yellow blanket and crying. Tears stream down his snout – I didn't think wolves cried. Actually, I assume they don't … except this one. _Father?_

"Yes, yes I am," Loki says softly, holding the boy against his chest. The boy's long pink tongue reaches up to give him several kisses.

"Oh Loki, he's adorable. He has your nose," Thor says teasingly, then deftly dodges a backhanded swat from Loki.

"His eyes as well," I say. "He is also a valiant little child with a warrior's soul – that must have skipped you." He doesn't even bat an eye at my insult – he's too busy examining his child, staring into his eyes the way most new fathers do. "There's another, an egg," I say, getting to the point. "And we must keep him warm – Fenrir was most upset with me for taking him from a magical warm spot."

"Another child?" Loki asks, with wide eyes like a deer that's just caught the scent of a hunter.

"Yes – conceived when you 'played' with the boy's mother I assume," I say coldly, and watch his cheeks and ears turn red. I didn't think he knew how to blush. Thor has to put a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. "Do you think you can undo the curse on them?" I ask, more gently, because I almost regret making that comment. Almost.

"I … I'm sure I can," he says unevenly, and strokes the boy's fur. The boy gives a tiny yawn, but fights sleep. His eyes are only half-closed.

"Even if you can't – will it be so bad?" Thor asks, smiling at the tiny cub in his brother's arms. Loki and I both stare at him – we have no words to say to that. What kind of horrible life would this child lead, with the mind of a boy and the body of a wolf? Realizing he's said something wrong, Thor clears his throat. "I'm sure it will be no challenge for you to lift this enchantment, Loki."

"Well if you can't, surely someone will," I say, knowing that will hurt his pride but once again not caring. Someone has to know what's wrong with the children – I don't want to imagine what will happen to them if no one can fix it.


	3. Chapter 2: Just a Boy (Fenrir)

Chapter 2

Just a Boy

Fenrir

I am thirty-years-old – not a baby anymore.

Jorg is my brother – a tiny scaly thing I love to play with. He wraps around my paws and squeezes – not tight enough to hurt – and I lick his scales. Sometimes I chew him a little and he gets mad and twists away – Father tells me to stop hurting him. But I don't hurt him … I don't bite hard. I know not to bite Father – his skin is too soft. But Jorg has scales. Not bare skin. I don't know why he's such a baby.

My fur protects me when the dogs bite – mostly. They bite hard. They never speak and I don't know why. I try to be friends with them and they raise their fur and bite me hard – Father rushes in to pull me away. "Fen – you know better," he scolds me. I don't understand why they don't like me.

Father says I can't talk to the other children – he says I'll frighten them. I don't understand. He got mad at Uncle Thor when Uncle Thor threw a stick and I brought it back to him – it made us both happy. I don't understand why it was a bad thing for Uncle Thor to do.

I make my voice sound like Father's – I like his voice so much. Uncle Thor laughs and says I should try a voice more like the children – so I do. I know Father likes it better when I act like the other boys, so I watch what they do – I see how they greet their parents and play with each other, and I imitate it as best as I can. When Father comes home, I stand on my hind paws to put my front paws over his shoulders to embrace him. Whenever I'm happy, I give my biggest smile. Father tells me he likes that – Uncle Thor tells me it looks like I'm just baring all my teeth and I shouldn't do it if I don't like it. I try to walk on hind legs but that is hard to do, and I bump my head on the ceiling and fall over a lot. "Fenrir, stop that," Father scolds when I do.

_But why Father? You say I should act like the other children._

"Within reason, Fen – you don't have two legs yet," he says and hugs me around the neck. He always says "yet" – I'm not a boy like the others yet, I can't play with the others yet, I can't speak through my mouth yet … Everything is yet. I've asked him but he won't tell me when I'll be a boy like the others. That's so mean – I want to know. Being a boy sounds so much nicer than being a wolf.

Unless I have a nightmare, Jorg and I sleep on our own beds – sometimes the servants talk about how spoiled the "prince's pets" are and it's hard not to talk back to them. I just sulk and try not to listen – I don't think Jorg understands them.

I want to be like Jorg – Jorg doesn't care. He speaks to me and sometimes to Father, but never to anyone else. His voice is snakey and he doesn't try to act like the other boys – not that he could do much. He doesn't have arms or legs.

No. I don't want to be like Jorg. I don't want to stop caring. I want to be a boy.

Today everyone is sad – I smell the tears and the sorrow in the air. _Why is everyone sad, Father?_ I ask him.

"The warriors have returned today, Fen, and there are many missing or dead from their ranks."

_Are they with my sister? _I ask.

"No, Fen, they're in Valhalla now." Hela is my big sister … and my little sister … and … I don't know. I don't understand the story. Something about Ragnorak and times before and … I try to make sense of it and my head hurts. The important part is that she's the queen of the dead – she rules Hel and Niffelheim and everyone goes to her eventually, unless they die in battle or childbirth so they go to Valhalla, which is what must have happened.

_Are their wives sad because they'll never see them again?_ I ask. I'd hate for Father or Uncle Thor to go to Valhalla … I don't think I can reach them there.

"Yes, Fen. But they're also honored because …"  
_Promise you won't go to Valhalla, Father. I won't be able to find you again. _

"Fen …"  
_Promise me!_

"No one knows the future, Fen … I won't make a promise I might not be able to keep. I will promise that I won't seek out such a fate needlessly," he answers. I'm disappointed but I try not to sulk. He ruffles my fur and leans down to kiss the top of my head. "Don't get too far ahead of yourself Fen – your Father's still a young man."  
_But weren't some of them too?_

He doesn't answer that.

They light the funeral pyres all at once – I look down from my room. Since everyone thinks I'm just a dog, I can't go. I don't know why I can't just talk to them … I could tell everyone I'm not a dog. (People are fools anyway … I'm clearly a wolf.) But every time I try to talk to someone outside the family Father does something to stop me and yells at me afterwards.

The smoke rises and the smell reaches my nostrils and … it smells good … spittle drips from my mouth and …

The smell makes me hungry. I get angry at myself as soon as I realize this – I'm ashamed. People don't eat people. Even when they're dead. I manage to shut the window with my nose and crawl into my bed, burying my face under the pillow and trying desperately to escape the delicious smell. _Are you asssssshamed, Fenrir? _Jorg asks in his snakey voice.

_Silence!_

_Why sssssshould you be asssssshamed of your true nature, brother? Wolves eat the flesh of all creatures … even their own in death …_

_I'm not a true wolf. I'm an Aesir._

_Jotun, you mean._

_Half of each._

_You really are blind, aren't you Fenrir?_

_Silence! _I run from my bed and crash through the bedroom door – Father will be angry when he saw I broke it again but I can't stay with Jorg or the smell. The smell is worse in the common areas and Father's bedroom, so I crash through the front door too, out into the halls where it's even worse.

I find a royal bathroom where there are soaps and oils, and I try to pour them out gracefully but I don't have hands, I have paws. So I just spill a lot and break a few jars. The scents are clashing and often awful together, but I roll in them and drown the scent of the burning flesh. I almost leave, but what will I do? Go and sit in Father's chambers and wait awkwardly for him to return and see the mess I've made? I lay in the basin, which at the moment has no water but a good amount of oil, and wait.

When is yet?

Father finds me some hours later – I cringe away from him because the scent clings to his clothes, his hair, his skin … Skin … flesh … "Fen? What are you doing?" he asks, and he tries to sound stern but he almost laughs. He doesn't mind that I made a mess – he must not have been to his chambers yet. A servant probably told him I was here.

_I … I …_

"Is it true I need to replace the doors again?" he asks, and he does manage to sound sterner on that note.

_I'm sorry. I just … the scent from the pyres … I had to drown it out … It made me … _He pulls me into an embrace, ignoring the oil smeared all over my fur.

"Oh Fen – I hadn't thought. That smell is awful for everyone … I can imagine how unbearable it was for you."

_Yes, unbearable_. I don't tell him why – but I let some tears fall and hope I've stopped drooling.

"It's all right. I'll wash up and we'll just clean up this mess … Then we can go home."

_But I can still … _

"We'll … borrow some of the soap." I know what he means by borrow and I almost laugh. I love him so much … he even steals for me._  
_

He makes it sound so easy, but the smell of burning flesh lingers for days. I spend most of those days with my face buried in the soap father took for me.

Three days after the burning, with the scent still lingering terribly in the air, I have a nightmare that Father has died and gone to Valhalla and I can't find him. I wake up panting and with my heart racing, and I tumble out of bed and run to Father's room, hoping that he's alone tonight. I don't smell a maiden, so I assume he is. (I have no idea what he does with them all night, but it doesn't smell right.) I knock on the door with my paw, hard and fast but not hard enough to dent it. Father opens the door and I hop up, putting my paws on his shoulder and resting my head on his chest. "Fen, did you have a bad dream?" he asks gently. I nod, and he pats my back. He doesn't ask for anything when I don't elaborate. "It's all right … you can sleep with me tonight, if you wish." I nod again, and he goes back to the bed and I climb in and curl up on the far side of the bed – Father rests beside me and puts his arm over my side.

I'm still scared so I can't go back to sleep yet. My mind races, and I try to think of something else.

_Father … do I have an older brother? _His arm tightens around me and I know I've asked the wrong thing. _Why are you upset? Did he die? _I ask worriedly.

"You're my eldest son, Fen," he says sharply.

_Okay … I just heard someone say that I have a horse brother and …_

"You don't. That is just an ugly rumor."  
_Why is it ugly? Is being a horse worse than being a wolf?_

"Fen … hush and go to sleep," he says, and I can tell he's about to lose his temper so I just close my eyes and try to sleep.

Seven days after the burning, we have a feast – a memorial feast. It seems that all of Asgard is here. _Will there be any other children like me? _I ask as we head down.

"No, Fen, you and your brother are … in a unique situation."  
_So how do you know we'll be real boys?_

He doesn't answer that. Uncle Thor meets us halfway – I jump up and "embrace" him the way I've learned.

"Hello nephew," he says, too loudly for Father's liking, and kisses me on the nose. "You seem quite jovial today."  
_It's a feast! _I answer as I drop back down to all fours, and that makes him laugh.

I stay close by Father's side as he attends his royal duties. He greets various people and when he bows, I do as well. I lower my front legs and bring my head low to the ground – it seems to delight some and just baffle others. "That's a nice trick, boy," a woman says and pats my head. Because she thinks I'm a dog. I wonder if I should smile – I glance at Uncle Thor and he shakes his head no so I don't. I didn't feel like it anyway. When I'm happy my tail wags – and it wags a lot today.

The feasting begins in earnest – if Father had his way I'd have a place at the royal table, but since everyone thinks I'm just a wolf (or the foolish ones think I'm a dog) I have to just play at the edges of the feast and under the table. "It's all right, nephew – we'll save you a plate of food. I'll slip you some wine and ale if your father isn't looking," Uncle Thor whispers in my ear.

"You will not give my son ale or wine, Thor," Father says sharply. "He's just a boy." I know Thor will slip me just a little bit – just enough to get the taste.

When things have really begun, I play under the tables looking for scraps. The children give them to me happily – they pat my head and I lick their hands. Father would be mad at me if he saw that – but I like to lick. Skin feels good on my tongue, and sometimes I taste the food they've been eating.

There are dogs but I always stay far away from them – some of them smell me and their hackles go up so I hurry away quickly, walking backwards with my head bowed in the way I've seen other dogs do when they're trying to be submissive.

The talking seems to go on forever but I don't mind because I can keep snacking. I'll be very full by the time I finish the plate of food Father and Thor will save for me as well – I'll be happy. Happy happy happy.

I find Sigyn – she's my favorite person besides Father and Uncle Thor and Grandfather and Grandmother. Even better, she's with Sif, who is my other favorite person besides Father and Uncle Thor and Grandfather and Grandmother. I have a lot of favorite people – I guess I'm lucky that way. "Hello Fenrir," Sigyn whispers to me when she sees me begging by her table. I turn to her and beg more. "Now don't do that – I know your … I know Loki's saving something for you already," she says and scratches my ears. My tail wags extra hard – she almost called him my father. She's a healer-in-training, and not only that but one of Grandmother's students, so she's immensely smart. We never exactly told her, but she got really close to figuring it out on her own so we just stopped keeping it a secret from her. I think she helps Father look for ways to make me a real boy. Sif knows too – Uncle Thor says she's the one who brought me home, all wrapped up in a fuzzy yellow blanket. He says I was really cute and I cried the whole time until Father held me – I get annoyed when he tells that story.

The feast goes on longer than I thought, well into the night, and I fall asleep, already full and happy, at Sigyn's feet. She's talking about magic to the other students – I try to listen but I don't understand most of it. I feel arms under me and wake up just a little bit. "Oh no, Loki, he's much too big for you to carry …"

"He's just a … he's still young enough for me to carry. I would ask you not to take that joy from me, Sigyn," Father says, and I keep my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. I love it when he carries me. Even though I'm sure it's quite a sight, considering I'm as long now as he is tall.

I stay pretending to be asleep until we go all the way back to our chambers – he tucks me in to bed and tells me good night. It only occurs to me after that I should have just been honest – now I won't get my food.

I wake up the next morning and Jorg is angry – I smell his anger right away. He's in the bed with me, raised up over my face like he's thinking about striking.

_What's wrong Jorg?_

_You. _

_What did I do?  
_

_You sssssstink of Aessssssssir and Vanir when you come back from these feasssssts – you disssssssgust me._

_Aesir and Vanir don't stink … _Especially not Vanir. They smell wonderful. Sigyn is a Vanir.

_That'ssssssss why you disssssgust me. _

_Why?  
_

_You … you try sssssso hard … _

_Father tells us to try …_

_And you are hisssss perfect little boy, aren't you? Don't you know we're prissssonersssss here?_

I don't like his tone. I roll over and try to twist away from him. _If you don't like my smell, stay away from me._

He crawls away to the plate Father and Uncle Thor left for us – by now it's cold but it will still be good. I make really sure to let Jorg eat all he wants – he swallows a whole chicken and nothing else, like always, but I wait just to be sure – before I head over to get something to eat.

I'm nervous when Father leaves – he and Sigyn are going on some kind of expedition soon. People talk about them. I wish they were right – I'd like her to live with us. _Do you have to go today, Father?_

"What's wrong, Fen?"  
_Nothing … just … I want to … we had such a good day yesterday and …_

"I'll be back soon, Fen – don't fret," he says, but he doesn't sound entirely convinced.

_Can you leave my bedroom door open today, Father?_ He looks over to Jorg suspiciously, then agrees.

I wait in the common areas for a long time – then I start to feel bad. Did I do something to make Jorg mad at me?

I worry about it a little while longer – I try to read some of Father's books. He seems amused when he comes home and finds me trying to read – he's taught me a little bit, but I can't read his complicated magic books or his history books (he assures me the latter are dull anyway). But the more I wait, the more I wonder if it was my fault. I did leave him all alone to have fun. He's probably just jealous. I mean … I get to see people. He almost never does – because he doesn't mind very well. And many people fear serpents – a lot more than fear wolves. And like me he seems to be growing fast and the bigger he gets, the more even people who aren't afraid of snakes will be afraid of him, since they don't know he's a boy … Which nobody can for …

Reasons I still don't understand.

_Jorg? _I call. No answer. I make my way back to the bedroom. His tummy is all big from the chicken – he usually doesn't want to play after he eats, but I might as well ask. _Do you want to play?_

_Go away, Jotun. _

_We're both half-Aesir half-Jotun._

_Go away._

I step forward and playfully try to drag him out of bed.

_Go away, Fenrir._

_I just want to play!_

I tug him out of his bed and catch him on my paws – I roll over on my back and toss him up.

_Unhand me! _He shrieks.

_Don't you mean "Unpaw me?" _I ask playfully. He was just teasing me for being … not wolf enough. Maybe he'll like that I joke about my paws. I catch him and bring him to my mouth to give him a love bite … not too hard but he has scales so it can't hurt too much …

I feel his fangs dig into my right shoulder. He's bitten me before … but this time there's a burning sensation. Unlike most snakes he can control his poison – I still remember how afraid Father was the first time …

My whole shoulder burns and then goes numb, and I know I've been poisoned.

_I'm sorry Jorg … I guess that hurt more than I meant …_

I drop him and stumble away to my bed. I don't want to tell Father what happened … I don't want to admit I bit him again. Or that I bothered him after he ate, which I'm not supposed to do either. I don't want Jorg to be in trouble either. Maybe he only poisoned me a little.

I manage to climb into my bed even though my leg is burning too and I am feeling dizzy and sick to my stomach. I try to sleep but I can't because of the pain. I whimper and whine, but I know no one will hear me, so I decide to save my breath. Maybe if I save my energy I can get better.

I throw up once or twice … I wasn't strong enough to get out of bed and I'm sorry for making a mess.

The numbness is all the way down to my paw and spreading all over my right side – by now my neck and my rump on that side are burning and I know the numbness will follow. I just hope it stops. My head is really fuzzy … I start thinking funny things. Wouldn't it be fun if pigs could fly? You'd have to chase your pork. I wish plants could talk. Maybe I want to be a plant, not a boy. No. I'm glad plants can't talk … then you couldn't eat them.

I hear the door open and my head clears a little – it's too soon to be Father – I think it's one of the servants until I hear Uncle Thor's voice. "Fen – your father said you were lonely today, and I can miss training today," he calls. I try not to answer – I don't want to be in trouble, I don't want Jorg to be in trouble … "Fen? Did you get out again, you naughty boy?" he calls teasingly. One time I snuck out the window with Jorg around my neck and we played in all around the city until Thor found us, and then we had a big adventure getting back in the chambers before Father found out.

_No … I'm … I'm sick … _I call weakly to him, trying to think of a lie.

"Should I bring a healer?" he asks through the door, and he looks very concerned at the sight of me, and the mess I've made already. I'm deliberately laying on my right shoulder so he can't see the wound. It hurts but I manage.  
_No!_

"Fen … why are you laying like that?" Thor demands, and steps closer.

_It's nothing! _He lifts me gently, and sets me back down as soon as he sees the wound.

"Jorgumunder, did you poison your brother?" Thor demands, and I almost laugh. He already knows the answer to that. And then I remember about the flying pigs and I really do laugh. Thor lifts me off my bed and I almost throw up again … but I think I got everything out of my stomach already. "Do you know what you've done?"

_He bit me firssssst. _I think it's the first time Jorg has spoken to Uncle Thor.

_Tattle-tale!_

"That was not wise, Fen," Thor says but he doesn't sound angry. "Can you walk?" I shake my head.

_Father carried him by himsssssself, golden one … are you weaker? _Jorg taunts. Thor ignores him, and carries me out of the room. I close my eyes to try to help the dizziness.

I hear something being thrown aside and Thor lays me on a table – it's hard and cold. "Sigyn please – you have to help him," Thor pleads.  
"I'm … I'm only a junior healer, I can't …"  
"You're the only one who knows who he is – you know my father's decree about his nature …" Is that why it's a secret? I always thought it was _my _father who didn't want people to know.

"Help me, then," she says nervously.

"Someone has to get Loki …"  
"Go – he'll be more help. No offense was meant by that, Prince …" I laugh because the way she caught herself there was funny. She should marry Father so she'll be a princess and then it will be okay to offend Uncle Thor. I don't think he minds anyway.

Then I manage to throw up bile … and nothing is funny anymore.

I smell Father before he even gets in the room – he's very afraid. Of Jorg? He puts his hands under my head. "Fen – Fen you knew better."

_I'm sorry._

"I'm … I'm not angry, Fen."  
_I could tell from your voice. I'm still sorry._

I come in and out of sleep – I hate being awake because the poison hurts and the things Father and Sigyn are doing to me hurt. Sigyn is trying to be calm – for me – but sometimes her voice goes really high-pitched and she gets short with her instructions to Father. Father does an even worse job of pretending to be calm – I can smell his tears and his voice is uneven. I try to be good and quiet but I howl and whine – I can't help it. Uncle Thor stays and does what he can. Mostly he cradles my head and tries to reassure me it's going to be fine, in a steady, even voice and his hands don't shake as he holds me. He does a better job of pretending he knows I'm going to be fine than Sigyn and Father … I'd believe him if I didn't smell his tears too.

I like being asleep because I have really good dreams. I'm in this huge, open place and I'm … huge and open, in a realm of shadows and snow. For just a second … then I'm in the city and I … I'm a real boy!

I run on two legs and nobody is afraid of me. I smile and it feels good and natural … like wagging my tail only better because I'm a real boy!

Waking up is the worst – I feel like I'm being forced through a hole back into my tiny body and then the pain hits. At some point, Sigyn says they've done all they can do and they can only wait.

Finally, I stop having the good dreams – there's only pain for a little while, until I get so used to it I can sleep. I don't have any more dreams.

I wake up back in my bed. Father is in a chair by my bed, waiting for me. He's fallen asleep, and I don't want to wake him up so I close my eyes to try to go back to sleep, but I can't get comfortable so I roll over …

Jorg's bed is gone. _Why is Jorg's bed gone?_ I ask without thinking, and Father starts awake, despite the fact I asked quietly.

"Fen! You're awake!" he says, relieved, and wraps his arms around me.

_Why is Jorg's bed gone?_ I repeat.

"Don't worry, Fen," he says after a while. "It's … you're safe now."  
_But why is Jorg's bed gone?_ I ask for the third time.

"I … Your grandfather … We decided that it would be safer for you and … everyone … if … if your brother stayed somewhere else for a while."

_Where?_  
"Midgard … somewhere in the wilds where he won't come across anyone …"

_But he's just a baby!_

"He'll be safe, Fen."

Tears sting my eyes, and I feel ashamed. _But … it was my fault … I knew better …_

"No it wasn't … Fen … it was my fault that I didn't see what …" He stops himself, which is frustrating because I don't understand. Tears fall out of my eyes.

"You know, Fen … wolves don't cry – only people cry," Father says as he brushes the tears from my eyes. "You're more of a boy than you know."

_Wolves don't cry?! _I ask, incredulous.

"No they don't. They express sorrow in other ways … tears and laughter belong only to man."Jorg and I both have Father's eyes … that must be why.

_But … when you find out how to make us real boys … how will you find Jorg?_

"Have some faith in your Father's magic, little one," he says, and pretends to be offended, but I can tell he's not.

"Besides, Heimdall could probably tell us exactly where to look," Uncle Thor says from the door. He's usually not quiet – I knew he was in the chambers because I could smell him, but I'm impressed he managed to walk to my door so quietly.

"Yes well … that too," Father says, and now he does seem a little genuinely offended. I laugh, and then stop myself.

_Father, Uncle Thor … why doesn't Grandfather want anyone to know about me? _

Thor comes to sit by me on the bed.

"Fen … I think you're old enough to know …"  
"Know what, Thor?" Father cuts in sharply, and I listen, confused.

"Loki, he'll have to know where he came from some day …"  
"Not tonight, Thor, he's just a boy," Father says, and I guess that's the end of it because Thor sighs and ruffles my fur but doesn't say anything else.

Maybe by the time I'm old enough to know, I'll be a real boy. 

**Author's Note **

Once again I have a story that requires a super long Author's note. The other chapters will have none or a very brief one.

This whole story is generated from a WMG on tvtropes. I will give credit where it's due when it's time but if I posted it right now it would offer too many spoilers. The WMG in question is highly unlikely, perhaps even impossible, and I don't even think it was posted in seriousness. But for some reason it stuck with me, and so … here's this story.

You've probably heard the Asgardian linear aging theory based on Loki's comment that Aesir live about 5000 years in Thor 2. Since Loki is somewhere between 1100 and 1200 years old, that makes him between seventeen and nineteen. Obviously that would make Tom Hiddleston far too old for the part but Hollywood is no stranger to casting adults as teenagers, and Thor and Loki do act sort of … teenagery. However my usual inclination is to assume it's a more complex relation to human aging … that they start out aging faster (only two or three years to a single human year) and then it slows down until it takes like two hundred years for an Asgardian to age as much as a human does in one year. However, for the sake of simplicity, I'm going to go with the more simple theory for this story, so that it takes 62.5 years for an Asgardian to age as much as a human does in 1 year (which means that Asgardian women are pregnant for forty-seven years … yikes). Further than that, I'm going to assume that wolves have comparable ages to dogs, and that Asgardian giant wolves have the same proportional relationship to Aesir that normal wolves have to humans. You've probably heard that one human year is equal to seven dog years. This works as a rough approximation, but it's more accurate to assume the first two years of a puppy's life are equal to twenty human years and then every year after that counts for 2.? human years (apologies for not remembering the exact formula, we won't need it for this story). So in one hundred twenty-five years, Fen will be as mature physically and mentally as a twenty-year-old human or a one thousand two-hundred fifty year old Aesir. So at thirty he's about four and a half years old in human years, but speaks a little better and can read a little bit because … well … he's had a lot more time to learn than a human child of that age. But … yeah no impulse control.

And yes this does basically make this kind of an MTV reality show with a fantasy edge. Like most things in this story, that will get very dark rather soon.

The mention of Hela goes back to the official Marvel Universe explanation for Hela in comics. Unlike some inaccurate depictions, Ragnorak isn't actually the end of all things – there is an element of rebirth in it. The Marvel interpretation is that it's cyclical and they've all lived through everything at least once before … which neatly explains differences between mythology and Marvel canon as well as how the ancient Norseman knew about characters such as Loki's younger children centuries before they were born and Thor marrying Sif and such. And yes I know that in official Marvel U Fenrir is like ancient (in the same way that Hela is) and has a whole race of werewolf-creature descendents … but this is MCU so I feel there's some wiggle room.

The idea with Jorg wasn't that reptiles are abhorrent … they're just more different from humans/Asgardians than wolves, which are at least social mammals. But as shown with the pyres, Fen isn't quite human either and believe me that's only getting more pronounced later.


	4. Chapter 3: Quest (Fenrir)

Chapter 3

Quest

Today, I'm turning sixty-three – I am most certainly not a baby anymore – and Father says I'm growing up too fast and tries very badly to pretend to be happy. _Why is he so sad, Uncle Thor? _I ask when we're alone. At first I assumed he was just being silly, but Thor is solemn too. Besides, Father has been less and less happy on my birthday with every passing year.

"Because … well … Fen … A boy your age should be … younger. A lot younger. Still a baby, in fact – but you're clearly half-grown."

_But he must have known this all along – that I age like a wolf instead of a boy._

"Yes but … every year he fails to lift the curse on you, it gets harder on him to see you grow up so fast. Do you understand?"

_Because his days with me are shorter?_

"Exactly. I'm glad you got his brains instead of mine," he says self-deprecatingly and kisses me on the nose. He doesn't even have to bend down to do that anymore, even when I'm on all fours. I barely fit in most places in the palace – they're building me a den on the grounds. Father is not happy about it – I tried to cheer him up by saying he should race to lift the curse before it's finished but I think that was a mistake. It didn't help.

My birthday this year is quieter than usual – it's never a huge celebration, given that throwing a prince's birthday feast for a pet wolf would be highly suspect, to say the least, but usually it's still quite a party, at least for our family. But today it's quiet – only Father, Uncle Thor, and I having a quiet supper. I'm not a child – I understand why. I'm surprised they were able to take time to celebrate at all. Uncle Thor lets me drink a little wine and Father doesn't protest it, for the first time ever. It's sour, but he mixes it with honey and then I like it. I drink the whole goblet, already diluted with water and now honey, and toss it down and demand another. "I think that's enough for now, son," Father says quickly.

_But I'm not affected by it,_ I insist. I'm not – I haven't felt anything from it, not even a little bit of tingling.

"That's the point – you're still just a boy," Father says. "I may relent on allowing you to get the taste, but my brother is not getting you drunk while I draw breath." I want to tell him he's being dramatic, but I hold my tongue. I've learned to hold my tongue around Father a lot. I'm tempted to ask about the battle against Lorelei's forces, but I know it will only be bad news, and Father and Uncle Thor are nowhere near the front anyway. They're both too powerful, in their own ways, to risk them falling to her siren call. Grandmother is there with her students and the shield maidens, hoping to overtake enough of Lorelei's forces that an assassin, also a woman (Sif if she's lucky), can get close enough to send her to my sister. I made the mistake of asking if I could go a few months ago – Father laughed nervously and said I'd be no more good than any man, since I could still fall prey to her voice. "Are you sure? Perhaps the boy is too young for that to be the case," Uncle Thor blurted out, which just made Father angry.

"Which is all the more reason that we're not going to find out," he snapped.

All too soon, the day is ended and they return to battle – I am old enough now to be left alone for a few days, but it's lonely. Sometimes I manage to read a little bit of a book, but it's too awkward to turn pages with my paws and I get frustrated too easily to continue with it very long, so most of the day I spend outside, playing on the grounds, or sleeping. At night it is hard to sleep and I spend most of it pacing and looking out the window, wishing I could be outside (when Father's home, he lets me play outside at night). My bed is far too small for me, and now I just sleep on a big pile of blankets in the room I once shared with my brother.

Some three days after my birthday, I am taking a nap on my blanket pile when someone knocks at the door. I can't open the doors of course – a servant has to come and let me in and out – so I just lift my head and try to ascertain, by smell, whether or not it's safe to call to the person on the other side. It's Sif – I can. _Sif! Come in!_

"You know I don't have a key – when will you be let out to play next?" I look at the sun out the window.  
_In about an hour or so – why?  
_"You're about to go on your first quest, Fen – I'll be waiting on the southern edge of the grounds when you're released."  
_But … why now? Why are you here when …_

"I'll explain everything in time – will you do as I say?"

_Of course!_ Why wouldn't I want to go on a quest? One that might prove me so brave Grandfather would want everyone to know who I am?

"Good – I'll see you then, Fenrir."

I try to go back to sleep – I'll need my strength for the quest – but I can't do anything but pace. Where are we going? What is our mission? Will there be danger? Of course there will be, but how much? Will we back before Father hears about it … oh he'll be so worried … maybe I shouldn't go … But he'll be so proud when we … do whatever it is we're supposed to be doing …

The servant comes to let me out and I know it's now or never. I go down to the southern edge and find Sif and Sigyn both waiting for me – my tail wags even harder when I catch scent of Sigyn. Vanir really do smell wonderful – I could smell them all day. _Where are we going?_ I ask eagerly.

"Hush Fen – we'll speak as we go," Sif says calmly.

"Sif – how can the boy agree to a quest if he doesn't know its nature?" Sigyn asks. She is more reserved – as usual. I can smell her fear, but I know she will do what she must. "Our quest is dangerous – we will be entering the realm of Vanaheim, but traveling far beyond the borders of my people's kingdom," she tells me gravely as she leans down to me. "We travel to find a rare metal which cannot be found in Asgard, but is abundant in Vanaheim, to bring to the dwarves to fashion a collar which might steal Lorelei's voice."

_And what purpose will I serve on this quest, my lady? _I ask, forcing myself to sound respectful and formal.

"There are … things in the place we hope to go," Sigyn says hesitantly, and the smell of fear is stronger just at the thought. "Things which we suspect will have some fear of you and your brother."  
_Jorg?! _I look around, trying to catch his scent … and watch her face fall.

"No … I'm sorry to disappoint you. Your older brother …"  
"Sigyn, they've never met," Sif says impatiently.

_I'm not the oldest?! _What else has Father lied to me about?  
"No … I guess Loki was …"  
"He'll be angry if we tell him, Fen doesn't even know about the way of things with men and women, let alone … Fen, you can ask your Father about it later," Sif says impatiently, and I am gravely annoyed at being treated like a baby in this matter when they're asking me to risk my life in a quest. This must have shown in my affect, because Sif catches herself. "I'm sorry Fen … I know you're old enough to know – but it's the sort of thing one doesn't tell other people's children – your Father should tell you, if he's ever ready, and I have no time to war with him about it now." I'm tempted to try to weasel the truth from her but I know that would be obnoxious, and she has her grief and her worry as it is, so I hold my tongue.

_Then we should go! _I say instead, and force my tail to wag.

"I can't emphasize the danger enough," Sigyn says softly.

_Then you will need me to protect you! I'm a big wolf and you are so little compared to me … _

"Very well, Fen. You will join us," Sigyn says, and I know she isn't happy about it – she still thinks of me as a little boy. I'll change that!

We stop at the stables – and to my surprise, the stable boy is waiting with the king's own stallion, Sleipnir. He is a magnificent eight-legged horse, almost twice as tall as most horses and dappled gray but with the highly unusual ability to change his fur black when riding into battle. _I thought you said we'd be traveling with my brother … _I can't quite interpret the look on Sif's face, but Sigyn smiles and says,

"This is your brother, silly boy."  
_I have heard much about you, Fenrir. _My ears go up in response – I haven't been spoken to thusly since Jorgumunder was banished. But Sigyn and Sif didn't react so I don't know what to think. Sleipnir looks to me and I hear a soft laughter. _Your father and Thor are the only two-legs who know I can speak – and now one little four-legs is in on the secret. It is much less grief when they think you're just a dumb animal. _I don't know how to only speak to one person, so I just nod.

_It's nice to meet you big brother, _I say vaguely and lick his face. He surprises me by licking mine – I didn't think horses went for licking. But it's the best exchange of love I've ever had – I didn't know I missed him, but I did.

_Now, little brother, we journey into danger – do you understand what waits for us?_

_Er … monsters?_

_The draugur – the undead. They will not harm us without provocation – but the danger to our two-legged companions will be great. Will you risk your life for theirs?_

_In a heartbeat. _The women look to me, surely wondering why I'm talking to Sleipnir when they can't hear him.

_Very good. Because you will. And I must teach you how to speak to only one person, Fenrir. _

I think I blush a little bit under my fur. Sleipnir kneels so that Sif and Sigyn can climb on his back – he's already saddled with a double saddle for them. _Can you run at my side, Fenrir? _he asks.

_I can, but perhaps not as fast as you._

_That is a shame. But I suppose it cannot be helped. With luck you will not need to. _

We make our way to the rainbow bridge – I have never crossed it. Even when I was brought to Asgard, I was brought an alternate way. I have never met the gatekeeper, but I know he is highly regarded, and that he is Sif's brother. I bow to him, and he smiles at me. "Young Prince Fenrir – it is good to finally meet you," he says and bows in turn. I hesitate, not sure if it's okay to speak to him.

"It's all right Fen – he helped me find you and bring you home when you were small. He knows," Sif tells me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.

_In turn, I am pleased to at last make your acquaintance, noble gatekeeper. My family speaks highly of you. _

"I am glad to hear my reputation is thus, Prince Fenrir. I wish that our meeting had been under less dire circumstances. I wish you luck on your quest in Vanaheim."

_Thank you, Heimdall._

"And as for you, Sister – may your journey be swift, and may your quest be successful. May it bring you peace, in the end." He steps back, and turns his sword in a mechanism like a lock and key. "And Sigyn – I hope you find what you seek," he adds, and she nods gracefully but a little bit of color drains from her face, and I wonder what he means. Sleipnir steps gracefully to the now open gate, and I follow decidedly less gracefully but with as much dignity as I can muster.

Traveling on the rainbow bridge is not nearly as fun as I thought it would be, but I am not about to show it. _Let's do that again! _I say cheerfully and hope Sigyn and Sif don't see my legs shaking when we land in a small clearing in some heavy woods.

_We will when we return,_ Sleipnir says teasingly, and laughs – which sounds like a neigh – when he sees my expression at the thought. But Sif and Sigyn are solemn, and our laughter dies quickly.

_Will we stop and see your family, Sigyn? _I ask.

"No Fen – we're nowhere near there," she says shortly, in almost a whisper. "I had already gotten the necessary permissions beforehand …Heimdall shifted the gate so that we would land closer to our destination …" As she speaks, I catch the scent of something that raises my hackles – Sleipnir's legs stiffen and his ears go up and I know he smells it too. It smells … wrong. The smells of life and death mixed together like that is just … unholy.

_I warned you the undead were here – be ready to run, _Sleipnir warns me. He goes forward at a fast walk – he keeps his head held high and acts as though nothing is wrong. Probably because he doesn't want to scare the women, who surely haven't smelled anything yet. I follow suit and keep my head high and bounce along like I am totally unafraid, while keeping my ears peeled and monitoring the smell – is it getting stronger?

Sleipnir knows where he's going – I want to ask but since I can't speak only to him, I don't bother. The women don't talk to each other at all – Sigyn mutters incantations that presumably will help keep them safe. Or safer, at any rate. Sif keeps a hand on her sword and looks around in every direction.

We clear the woods after less than half an hour – we come across some very gray, rolling plains, with signs of mining all about. There are tracks and carts piled high with rocks and tools, left where they lay. _I assume we are looking for some of this metal already mined? _I ask, speaking at last, while straining my nose and eyes searching the vast open place. Fog gathers in some low places, which makes my heart race with anxiety. It does not look safe, to say the least.

"Yes, Fen – there should be plenty of that," Sigyn says softly, and her eyes are filled with sorrow as well as fear. "We'll fill a bag with it – as much as I can carry – and let the smith keep what he does not need for the task for his trouble." I want to say that a bag that was all that Sif can carry would be a better prize, but I don't want to speak at all. I don't want any noise at all – and yet the silence is awful. It's an unnatural silence – in the woods at least there was the sound of animals and wind in the trees. Here there is nothing – no animals, no wind. Whatever is here must be a danger to animals as well as man.

_Sigyn, what happened here? _I ask when I can take the silence no more.

"The miners ignored the warnings from the dwarves … They delved too deep and without caution, and opened graves without intending to, and unleashed … them. The draugur."

_Oh. _

We don't say anything else until we reach the mouth of the mine. I was definitely hoping there would just happen to be a bag's worth of this metal lying around outside, but of course any of that is long gone. "If we come on a fork, we should go separate ways to speed the errand," Sif says. Sleipnir neighs in protest.

_Is she mad?! _He asks me.

_Sometimes._

"And how will we know when what we've collected together is enough?" Sigyn asks, annoyed with her but not nearly as frightened as either of the Lokisons. Maybe they're both mad.

"When you've filled half the bag have Fen bring you to me or when I've lifted enough to fill half Sleipnir and I shall find you. We might end up with more than we need but that is the better error."  
_But Sif – I don't think that's wise considering the …_

"Fen – every moment we delay, shield maidens and soldiers of Asgard slay each other, and Lorelei does who knows what to her captives! I will not delay even a second longer than necessary," Sif says sharply. Those captives include her and Sigyn's fiancés, Haldor and Theoric – maybe that is why they are so bold. Well … even more so than usual.

_Maybe we won't come on a fork … _I say hopefully as we enter the tunnel, but then the smell is so overwhelming I can think of nothing else.

I keep an eye out for metal, but my eyes aren't as sharp as theirs – I get by mostly by hearing and smelling. And speaking of hearing …

It's a soft moan at first – a pained, sorrowful sound. Sleipnir's head is still held high, so I don't show that I'm afraid.

_It's a good thing two-legs can't smell fear, _he teases gently. _It's all right though – anyone with sense has fear of the draugur, _he adds before I can snap back that I smell fear off him. As he says it he looks pointedly at Sif – Sigyn is trembling and reeks of fear, but Sif is calm. It's cultivated, I know – some warriors just learn how not to show fear (though she is not a warrior, this can be said of Sigyn – if I didn't notice the trembling in her hands, and I wasn't a wolf who can smell fear, I would think she was unafraid) and others learn to master it, to feel it for a moment and then beat it into submission. Clearly, Sif is one such warrior.

Or she really is mad.

The moaning grows louder and louder as we go. "Oh, here is some," Sigyn whispers to me, and she sounds relieved. I follow her to the side of the tunnel and watch farther down as she kneels to gather several small nuggets. I certainly hope it's in bigger pieces farther down. Not too much farther – the smell is unbearable now. Sif urges Sleipnir forward.

_There's no fork here, _I say desperately.

"If we come on one, Sleipnir and I shall take the left, you take the right," she says over her shoulder. "Take the right at every turn unless something compels you otherwise – then I will know where to find you."

_Be careful little wolf, _Sleipnir tells me as he goes. I have to stop myself from cursing. I don't like this. I don't like this at all.

As soon as Sif is gone, Sigyn wraps her arms around my neck and lets the tears fall. "I am very afraid, Fen," she whispers.

_I know._ I say awkwardly.

"My brothers were lost here," she whispers. I knew she didn't have any family, but I didn't know why. I nuzzle her shoulder comfortingly – I know licking would be bad form. "They came to fight the draugur … I thought if I came … if I saw what they saw in their last moments …"

_It will be all right. I will not let their fate be yours._

"I know you will protect me, Fen," she says sadly. I am very confused about why she is still sobbing. "Please, do not tell Sif that I was so weak I had to lean on a child for a while," she says, wiping away the tears and managing a smile.

_Of course not. _A particularly loud moan comes from further down the tunnel. I lay down so she can climb on. _Lady Sigyn, if you would, climb on my back, for your own sake. _

"But Fen …"  
_I insist_, I say gravely._ I will play at being a horse for a little while, _I add, more playfully, and she acquiesces.

We are not having much luck retrieving anything larger than the little nuggets – I'm not much help I'm afraid. I could help, in theory, but my nose is too distracted by other scents. Any time she spots one, I lay down and insist she pick up pieces while remaining on my back in case I have to run.

And it isn't long before we see one. Sigyn grabs my fur tight, seeing it before I do – in the dim light of the tunnel, I can make out very little, though I knew it must be close from smell and sound. It is almost a man, but rotted half away and the flesh that remains looks black and frostbitten. It still wears the armor of a Vanir soldier, but the cloth underneath is tattered and all but worn away, and any helmet it once had is long gone, leaving the sight of it's rotting head all too visible. He looks right at me with eyes that are still intact long after they should have rotted away, but glazed and pale in death, and speaks in a frail, whispering voice. "What's this? The fearsome Fenrir Odin-Bane being ridden like a common mule?"

_Don't come near my friend, creature, _I retort and snarl at him. But I'm disquieted by what he called me … Odin-Bane?

"I can't make any promises, Odin-Bane …"

_What is this you call me?  
_"Don't you know your name?" he taunts.

_Silence!_

"Will you let us pass?" Sigyn asks calmly, and I almost laugh. She's so diplomatic.

"Odin-Bane has leave to go where he wishes," the thing answers, and steps to the side.

_If you even try to touch her I will tear you apart, _I snarl. It only laughs at me, and I walk by, cautiously.

"Your brothers' flesh was sweet, Freydottir," it says, and Sigyn almost pulls out a chunk of my fur her grip gets so tight.

I whirl on it, despite her protests, and sink my teeth into the horrible creature's head, intending to silence the laughter now emanating from it. Its rotted flesh is foul in my mouth but I tear at it anyway – I bite down as hard as I can until I feel its skull crunch under my teeth and the soft, almost liquid brains spill into my mouth and the laughter becomes strangled and then stops. "Fen did you have to do that?" Sigyn asks in disgust and horror as I drop the corpse – now really a corpse – at my feet and desperately spit away dried blood and rancid flesh and brain.

_It was cruel to you. _

"Yes but …"

_The man it once was would be grateful to me for ending his disgrace. _I hadn't thought about that at all beforehand, but she seems to accept that and doesn't complain anymore, even though I am sure she's appalled, so I decide that was a good excuse to use.

The tunnel gets darker the deeper we go – that brings me so much joy. Sigyn uses a spell to summon a little ball of light to her hand which we use as a torch – Sif took the two torches, which is good in case one runs out or gets dropped, since Sigyn can always do the spell. We see more and more of them, lounging about the tunnel and staring hungrily at Sigyn, but they do nothing, presumably because of my presence. Any defiance they might have had towards me is probably dampened by the gore I was unable to spit away on my muzzle – they know I can and will, without hesitation, make sure they stay dead this time, and they seem to have some instincts of self-preservation.

It suddenly occurs to me that I sincerely hope that Sigyn's brothers are dead … truly dead. I don't want her to see one of them as a draugur …

I come on several forks and turn right at each one, just like I told Sif I would. It makes me very nervous though – the deeper we go, the more I worry. And that damn bag has barely anything in it. _Are you sure there's enough metal left in the mines for this task, Sigyn? _

"Yes Fen – we just have to go deeper," she whispers.

_Is there anything else at all in all the universe we could use?_

"If there was, I wouldn't be here."

_I don't understand why Sif can't just kill Lorelei – why bother with a muzzle?  
_"The Allfather believes she's learned things about his other enemies – information he needs. He wants her tried and interrogated – by women obviously – and kept alive."

_If it will save lives, I suppose it is worth it._

I am very worried for Sif, all though Sleipnir can probably kick their heads right off if they try anything. Even so …

We come to a place where several tunnels join together, into one big room where apparently much of the carting and gathering of the metal took place. There is a lot of metal here – scattered all along the floor and walls. I am incredibly nervous here – there are three or four of them all just standing around. I am not sure how fast these things can move, or if they'll be emboldened by each other's presence, and I do not wish to find out. There is an overturned cart overflowing with the metal we need – Sigyn can fill her entire bag and then we can leave and find Sif – the split up was likely unnecessary. _Stay on my back please, _I tell Sigyn as I lay down by the cart, keeping my head up and growling at the creatures. Two of them are close together, and one leans over and speaks conspiratorially to the other, but fully within my hearing.

"Isn't that precious? The fearsome Death Bringer wants to protect his stepmother," one of them hisses to another one.

_What did you call me? _I demand. If I get a good answer to that, I'll ask why they refer to Sigyn as such.

"It's hard to believe this is the great Odin-Bane, isn't it?" one of the others whispers. "Such a fearsome Death Bringer, letting his stepmother ride him like a mule," the other taunts.

_Shut up! _I order.

"Fen, they taunt you because they're afraid," Sigyn pleads with me, trying to keep me calm as she shoves the pale metal we've been looking for into the bag, but my hackles are raised and my lips turn up into a snarl without any input from me. I'm sick of the smell of these stupid things, I'm sick of their voices, I'm sick of everything about them. I'm sick of their mysteriousness, and how they seem to know these things. "Fen – we have enough," she says and fumbles to close the bag.

_Fill it all _I growl, and I forget to watch my tone.

"Surely Sif has gathered some …"  
_We will bring the dwarf master every scrap of metal we can carry to him, Lady Sigyn, _I say authoritatively, in the tone I only use when pretending I'm at court, practicing for when Father can make me a real boy.

"Very well, Prince Fenrir," she says in the same formal tone, following my lead, and she tries to stuff more scraps into the bag with her hands badly shaking, while I glare at the creatures.

The shift in tone doesn't discourage the creatures – in fact it emboldens them. "What a handsome little princeling," one says teasingly. "So formal and domesticated – I'm sure the prince is glad to show off his pet." That stings, but I stay where I am, glaring at them, until Sigyn throws the bag over her shoulder.

"That's it Fen, it won't hold another scrap," she says breathlessly, and I start to rise from the floor, never taking my eyes off the creatures even though my ears are peeled for the arrival of any from another direction – by now there are so many of them and the smell is so strong and ubiquitous I dare not rely on that sense for anything precise.

"We should fetch the Freysons to bid farewell to their sweet sister," one of the creatures whispers to another. The sharp pain in my shoulders from my fur being pulled lets me know Sigyn heard that.

_One of your companions already told us they were dead – I will rip each of you apart before you compel the lady to know which of you is a liar, _I say sharply, and lick my lips even though it means running my tongue over the foul blood.

"Neither of us – two were devoured, two joined us," the one who spoke says again.

"Fen, let us go," Sigyn says in a shaking voice, and I can smell her tears.

_Silence! _I order. We're surrounded now and several of them are blocking the way out – I know they are frightened of me and a gentle suggestion will probably work, but I'm going to make it less pleasant for them, since they've been such good hosts.

"The little one screamed and carried on like a little girl as …"  
_Silence, and get out of my way! _I order, and I drop my voice an octave below the sound any man could produce. Despite their bluster, they step back hurriedly, and I fight the urge to run past the open space back into the tunnel. Instead I hold my head up and walk past slowly, almost daring them to try to touch Sigyn and give me a reason to bite their heads off.

"Fen … do you think we could find the two … and you could end their disgrace?" Sigyn whispers.

_Perhaps in better days – there are so many of them I could not hope to tell one from another, and I would not have you see them like this, and we have a duty elsewhere. I will return when I can, Lady Sigyn._ I tell her softly.

On the way out of the room, I look over to one standing a little too close to me. I snatch him up by the neck, bite down hard, and throw his still twitching corpse into the room. It knocks two of them over and I almost laugh as I drop the still muttering head at my feet. Sigyn curses under her breath. _That is for the torment of my friend. Consider yourself lucky I did not kill every one of you, _I say haughtily, in that same, unnaturally deep voice, and then make my way down the tunnel.

I kill every one I see lounging in the tunnels, and Sigyn has stopped protesting by the second one. Before long, we don't see them very often, and the ones we do see scamper away as soon as they see me like a cockroach. In the empty tunnel, Sigyn lets me have it. "Fenrir, what is wrong with you?"  
_I suspect they don't feel pain, and if they do they're probably glad I end it in one swift bite rather than rotting away for hundreds of years._

"But it … it doesn't bother you at all?!" I suppose I should be upset – but I don't see why. They're not part of us anymore. And further than that they're an enemy. But I give her what she wants.

_I … I guess so. But they were cruel to you, and they scared me. I just wanted to protect you, _I say sweetly.

"I'm … I'm sorry, Fen," she says, and collapses forward so she's almost laying on me. "I was wrong to ask you …"  
_No. I would gladly do this to aid your family, _I say quickly. _I vow to you that I will discover the truth of these vicious rumors and end your family's suffering if need be._

"But you're just a boy …"  
_If it is all right with you, my lady, I have had my fill of the phrase, "Just a boy." I would rather suffer this unpleasantness for a few days than have your family continue suffering uncertainty._

"You say that now, but I won't hold you to it," she says softly. "I suppose I should get off your back."  
_Not until we find Sif and get the Hel out of here, _I answer. _After what I've done, I'm certain any stray draugur would be happy to take you to repay me a bit of what I have done. _

When we get to the mouth of the cave and Sif is not there, we go back down the way she had gone. Eventually, I somehow manage to catch the scent of frightened horse over the scent of the undead and Vanir tears. I howl, knowing my physical voice will carry further than my mental one. And I'm amused to think of the draugur scampering away like cockroaches at the sound.

_Fenrir, you little fool. I'll kick your skull in if you do that again, _Sleipnir's voice scolds me in my head. I am impressed his mental voice carries that far, and I wish I could talk back to him. But I trust it brings him back in my direction, and I keep on trotting further, scaring draugur into the darkness … likely right towards Sif and Sleipnir.

I freeze in place as soon as I realize this, hoping I haven't made this task harder on my brother. _I assume due to the fact we're not all being eaten that you've managed to cultivate their natural fear of you, _I hear Sleipnir's voice, and now he's close enough I can hear the clopping of his hooves in the echoing tunnel. _Well done, young wolf._

_Thank you, _I say now that he's close enough. I would ask how much they got but then I remember I am supposed to be keeping his secret and stay silent.

Sif joins us – now that she has seen who knows how many of them, even her warrior resolve is shaking and I smell her fear as well – and Sleipnir trots to me and looks me over, making sure I was not hurt in my battle with draugur. Well, it was pretty one sided combat. _How much did you get? _I ask cheerfully as we quickly head back the way we came. My fear of these things has greatly diminished – they fall apart in my mouth like the flaky pastries Uncle Thor isn't supposed to give me. Only they don't taste as good.

"Only a handful," Sif says. "Tell me …"  
_We filled a whole bag. We found a place with carts still full of the stuff._

"I am sorry to both of you – I separated us for nothing," she says wearily. "And I wasted time …"  
_You couldn't have known – it could have been you who stumbled on it, _I say appeasingly, my tail wagging. She brings her torch around to look at my face for the first time since she joined us.

"I always told your father you were a warrior," she says with a slight smile. I must have a lot of gore on my face.

We come to the long straight tunnel to the entrance and find the place crawling with draugur. I may have said I was not afraid, but seeing so many – there must be at least three dozen here – I have to go back on that a little. _They don't want to let this much of their treasure go – it would seem their greed has outweighed their fear for the moment, _Sleipnir says dryly, but the fear that had eased when we started to leave has returned in force.

_Sigyn, get on Sleipnir, _I say. Sif reaches out a hand to help and Sigyn jumps, rather ungracefully, onto his back. I won't tell anyone._ If you do not get out of the way, I will tear each and every one of you apart, _I say to the draugur in that low voice I had used earlier. They respond, as I thought they might, by charging.

Sif gets to see me in action – I feel them trying to bite me, but their feeble man teeth have quite a hard time digging through thick winter wolf fur, and I just bite through them like they're nothing while Sleipnir starts stomping and trying to get past. Since he has the delicate two-legs on his back, his escape is a priority. Some of them still hold swords and axes, but even then I am not worried. I sling the bodies of the ones I'm chewing on into the others to knock them off balance – again, it's almost funny to see the previously frightful creatures topple over, but I'd never tell Sigyn that.

Sleipnir makes it out of the mines and runs, and since he has eight legs he's able to run even faster than other horses. As soon as he's past, they step aside and let me pass – out of spite, I grab one and drag him into the sunlight to see what will happen. He shrieks in pain but doesn't die or anything exciting – so I just bite his head off like the others.

I run as fast as I can to join Sleipnir, but a wolf can hardly expect to outpace an eight-legged horse.

He's waiting for me in the woods – he whinnies anxiously and lowers his head to examine me once more. The women do the same – Sigyn with more obvious worry. The draugur managed to get a few shallow bites and one glancing blow with an axe, but nothing that even hurts that badly. "Well done, Fenrir Lokison," Sif says breathlessly. "You do justice to your family's honor, young warrior." I puff out my chest as far as possible.

"Those bites … I'll have to watch them for infection," Sigyn worries over me softly as she strokes the few places they broke skin.

_We should go now _Sleipnir tells me urgently, and I relay the message to the women, and we go on at a good pace – I'm anxious to get away from this place and go on to the rest of our quest, and I'm sure they feel the same. 


End file.
